


Waiting For The Rain

by QueerCrusader



Series: Sifki Week 2018 [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 11:49:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15242760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueerCrusader/pseuds/QueerCrusader
Summary: When on a drizzly grey morning a young Sif attempts to sneak out of the palace via her window for some training, she finds her plans soon altered. Loki has his own reasons for being out on the roof at this time of the day, and together they find a moment of tranquility and intimacy.Part of SifkiWeek2018.Day 1 - Young Love





	Waiting For The Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'ed and unchecked. Since I'm exhausted and rushing this out two days late, I apologise in advance for any/all mistakes!

It was an uncharacteristically chilly day in the city proper of Asgard, where the summer sun usually never stopped shining but for whenever it would finally sink below the horizon to make way for the night. Sif knew that once she’d leave the palace and its surrounding city behind, the weather would only worsen; if she travelled out far enough, she might even hit the snowy expanse of the Mørkefelt, or Dark Fields. Not that she’d ever make it that far. The palace guards would make sure of it.

It wasn’t for lack of trying, of course; Sif had always had a rebellious streak, sneaking out at the crack of dawn to train with the boys, dreaming of rising through the ranks to perhaps one day reinstate the legendary female warrior class of the Valkyries. She believed she could only ever make it that far if she pushed her limits in every way, and the Mørkefelt seemed like the perfect place to train. She wasn’t sure who to train with when she’d ever get there – perhaps there were plenty of Bilgesnipe to hunt. But first she needed to escape.

With a quick glance over her shoulder to her bedroom door, Sif rolled out of her bed as quietly as she could, pulling her sharpened training sword out from under the mattress. She’d already put on her armour a few hours before; it too was more for training purposes, made solely of reinforced leather, but it allowed her to move lighter and quieter. Perfect hunting gear. She should bring her bow too, but she was nowhere near as versed in archery yet as she was in the art of the blade.

There was a soft scuffle outside her room, and she stilled for a moment. The change of the guards wasn’t far off, meaning that her current gaolers – oh, I’m sorry, mother, _protectors_ – were tired and less attentive. They might switch early however, in which case she would be caught far too quickly, since the new guards always had to check if she was still in her room. Her mother’s protective streak was getting truly out of hand.

Everything stilled again soon however, and with a sigh of relief and her sword in hand, Sif jumped out the window.

With a soft thud she managed to land on the roof, still holding on to her windowsill. It was steep here, not to mention slippery. The golden material was still cool to the touch, but she knew that once the sun would come out, that would quickly change, and climbing would become a lot trickier. But Sif was prepared. There should be a rope here somewhere to help her abseil. She knew for a fact she’d hung it down, she’d been weaving it from gold-thread for days. She’d been bored out of her mind doing it, but it did help her become a little nimbler, which was always a good skill to have.

She held on tight to the windowsill with one hand as the other felt its way around the piece of roof jutting out. If she fell here, she would slide along the golden roof plating for two-hundred-and-fifty feet almost straight down. She might be Aesir, but even she would not survive a drop like that.

“Looking for something?”

Sif jumped at the sudden voice, and before she knew it it she felt her grip on the windowsill loosen and slip away. To her horror she started tilting back, where she could feel the abyss reaching out to swallow her up.

Before she even started to scream however, something long and solid wrapped around her waist. Solid muscle coiled against her body, and she held on tight as she was hoisted up by what turned out to be a giant snake. It pulled her up higher than her own window, finally putting her down on the little roof gable where the voice had come from that had spooked her so.

Unnerved, she watched as the snake retreated and morphed into a boy she knew all too well.

“You’re better at that than I thought you’d be,” she admitted quietly as Loki lounged back against the gilded palace wall reaching out above them. The boy raised an eyebrow.

“I practice,” he pointed out as if it were the most obvious thing in the realm. “Just like you.” With a little huff he turned away, his gaze roaming across the vast expanse of gold, shining dully in the pre-dawn light. Sif swallowed.

“Well… Good,” she tried, wanting to kick herself immediately. _Good?_ Honestly, she found it easier even to talk to the slick Fandrall. Why was this two-piece magician of all people numbing her tongue?

“You’re judging me,” Loki drawled. “I just saved you from imminent death, and you’re judging me. But then, I’m not surprised.”

“No, I swear to you that I’m not!” Sif spoke in her own defence. “It was truly impressive. Thank you.” She fell silent again, practically feeling how he rolled his eyes. It didn’t annoy her particularly though. Loki took everything with more than a grain of salt, which was only fair; Sif might be honest, but most people whispered behind the young prince’s back. About how he favoured weapons of distance rather than anything that required physical contact. About how he would still hold his mother’s hand. How the two practiced spells and other strange magics behind closed doors. He was different, and the people didn’t trust him.

Sif knew better than the people though. Loki wasn’t just different – he was _clever_. His mind was is sharp as his tongue, and his tongue was almost sharper than his daggers. She envied the way how he, truly like a snake, could slip out of any situation, could escape the crowds and follow his heart. He might at times be ostracised, but at least the guards at his doors were to keep others out rather than to keep him in.

She’d often watched him on the training grounds, from the corner of her eye. He’d always intrigued her, ever since that first day that Thor introduced him to the others with a beaming smile and Loki had just stood there, his gaze cutting through every single one of them. He was already eyeing them up before he’d even picked his weapon.

And now he had saved her. With magic, nonetheless. Sif still felt a little dazed at that.

It wasn’t until Loki spoke again that she realised how long they’d sat there in silence, and how much of that time she’d spent staring at him.

“What _were_ you looking for?”

Sif frowned. “What do you mean?”

“When you were hanging out your window,” Loki specified. “Was it that rope thing?”

“Did you have something to do with that?” Sif asked, narrowing her eyes at him. He only seemed amused by her suspicions, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he replied. “I just noticed it yesterday. It looked like good, solid rope. You might not have fastened it very well though. I didn’t know it existed until it knocked against my window’s gable on its way down the palace wall. Nice idea though, a very effective escape route. Not a single guard would dare follow you here.”

Sif swore softly at that. She needed to work on her preparation. Running with the boys was making her sloppy.

“And you?” she asked. “What are you doing out here?”

For the first time that morning, Loki flashed a genuine smile, lighting up his features. Sif had never quite realised how lovely he could look until that moment.

“I’m waiting for the rain,” he whispered, indulging her in what felt like an intimate secret.

Sif let out an incredulous little laugh at that. “Really? Who wants to sit out on a slippery roof in the rain?”

But Loki wouldn’t be discouraged. He simply turned his smile to the grey skies above.

“You’ll see.”

And so they sat together for a while longer. They spoke about little things – what they were looking forward to eating for breakfast. Hogunn’s misstep during training the day before. Their frustrations with the weapons their teacher wanted them to train with.

Loki fell silent in the middle of a scarily accurate imitation of Odin that had Sif in stitches. She too quieted as she watched him close his eyes, a soft smile spreading across his features as he tilted his head back.

The first drops of rain started to fall around them. They glistened against the gold of the palace like diamonds, valueless yet infinitely more valuable in their fleeting nature. They darkened Sif’s leather armour and lingered like jewels in Loki’s hair. The rain wasn’t as cold as she had expected, but that was only natural with Asgard’s climate. Around them, the city faded into the curtains of grey that lashed down from the sky and soaked the two teenagers to the bone.

But as intriguing as it looked, it was the _sound_ that took Sif’s breath away. The ticking, humming and drumming against the smooth palace walls. The quiet roar of water hitting the ground far below, drifting up to cradle them. The echoes gave extra depth to the abyss below, but Sif didn’t even have to point out her fears – Loki warped the roof tiles around them with a wave of his hand, creating a little balcony that cradled them close to the wall, keeping them safe.

For a moment he seemed hesitant, then. Vulnerable. Almost uncomfortable with Sif there. But she smiled apologetically and turned away a little, hoping he would feel better if she weren’t looking at him. It turned out to be the right move to make.

An unearthly tone rose from the spot beside her, and it took her a moment to realise that Loki was _singing_.

It wasn’t quite the same as how the bards sang; there were no words, no discernible notes to form a real melody. It was like the echo of a song, warped just a little with magic Sif was willing to bet. It weaved with the rain, forming a song that scattered on the wind, to fall over the edge of the realm and join the stars beyond.

Sif didn’t realise she was crying until he fell silent again. Without looking at him, she reached out and found his hand, giving it a soft squeeze. Silvertongue indeed. He might be better with words, but she understood that they had, for now, reached beyond verbal language.

They came down from the roof not much later, slipping back into the palace through his window to find a hearth to dry up at. The guards were angry and Sif’s mother hysterical, but neither teen told them where they’d really been. The roof was their little safe haven, away from any stares. They could be themselves up there. Two outcasts that dared to dream big.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [tumblr](https://queer-crusader.tumblr.com/)! (Seriously, I have like 20 followers. Come chat to me, I promise I don't bite.)


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